


With You

by Trash



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: Just loads and loads of dirty butt fucking, M/M, PWP, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 06:18:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chester and Mike finally get together on tour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With You

**Author's Note:**

> For Shinobi who wanted Mike and Chester to get down and dirty on the Projekt Revolution tour.

Mike sits at the front of the bus sketching over their tour schedule when Chester walks in from the bunk section, shirtless and irritable, growling “why is the air con not on? It’s hot as fuck in here.” He wipes a hand across his forehead and makes a beeline for the refrigerator, bending over to look inside. With one hand planted on the open door, the other on his thigh, he gives Mike an eyeful of his ass crammed into his skinny jeans.

“It is on,” Mike mumbles, cocking his head to once side and wondering if Chester has on any underwear. His jeans are so tight it’s a miracle he has any circulation to his feet at all.

“Whatever,” Chester mumbles to the fridge, pulling out a can of soda and slamming the door closed. He falls onto the couch opposite Mike and presses the can to his forehead, his neck. The condensation drips and Mike wants to dive over the table and run his tongue everywhere the droplets land.

“I don’t know why you’re being so pissy. It’s not like you’re going to fucking melt.”

His eyes closed, Chester reaches up with one hand and flattens his messy hair. “Feels like I might,” he says slowly.

His lips, the way they look as he presses the cold can to the back of his neck and he gasps, slightly parted. His eyes closed. Fuck, Mike thinks, oh fuck. Those lips would look good wrapped around his cock, his hands would look good pulling hard on Chester’s hair. They’d burn, he thinks, the pair of them. The heat from Chester’s body and the sheer overwhelming desire Mike feels right now…yeah, maybe they’d melt.

On the tour schedule in front of him he sketches the arch of Chester’s neck, the beads of condensation and sweat.

“Yeah,” he says, “I know how you feel.”

***

They’re at the meet and greet when Chester slips a hand under the table to run roughly up the inside of Mike’s thigh. Trying not to flinch as he smiles at the fans Mike goes, “So, this is kind of inappropriate, yes?”

Chester smirks, pulling on a giant leprechaun hat one of the fans gave him. “It smells like horse shit in this joint,” he says as he rubs Mike through his jeans.

Shifting in his chair Mike clears his throat. “Quit it,” he says, “and this is a race course so, yeah, it smells like horse shit.”

Chester doesn’t stop, though, rubs harder until Mike thinks he might actually just come there and then. He’s not sure where to start with what he wants to say, because sure this has been a long time coming but he feels like they should at least talk about it first. He turns to look at Chester who smiles at him and…oh, fuck.

Mike jumps to his feet, startling everyone around him. Brad looks over with a frown, only looks away when an impatient fan waves a CD under his nose for him to sign. “I feel sick,” Mike says. Adds, “sorry,” to appease the disappointed people waiting in line to meet him. Pulling his hoodie down to cover his pretty obvious erection he shuffles away from the table, disappearing back to the tour bus.

There’s only about thirty minutes between the end of the meet and greet and them needing to be on stage and Mike thinks that’ll probably be long enough. He locks himself in the bathroom and runs the tap as he unfastens his jeans. One hand braced against the mirror above the sink he wraps the other around his erection and jerks himself off quickly.

In his head he imagines Chester pressed face-first against a wall as Mike fucks him from behind roughly, one hand gripping his shoulder and the other his hip. In reality he bites hard on his lip and speeds up his hand as he hears footsteps coming down the bus. Someone pounds their fist against the bathroom door and Mike chokes, clears his throat, breathlessly, “Just…just a second!”

“Open the door,” Chester says urgently. “Let me in.”

So Mike does, and Chester locks the door behind him and immediately pins Mike against the sink, dropping to his knees and taking him in his mouth. He clumsily unfastens his own pants, reaching in to jerk himself off whilst Mike grips the edge of the sink with both hands and tilts his head back, trying to catch his breath.

“H-how did you know?” Mike asks, thrusting into Chester’s mouth.

The singer pulls away and wraps a hand around him instead, jerking them both off simultaneously. “You’re not exactly fucking subtle. And oh, fuck, I have wanted you for…since forever.”

“Get up,” Mike demands, pulling Chester to his feet. He fumbles with Chester’s jeans, pushing him back against the closed bathroom door and wrapping one hand around both their erections.

Chester moans and thrusts against him. “A-after the show,” he murmurs, “come to my room after the show.”

Mike nods and squeezes his eyes closed as he comes.

***

After the show they pile into the bus, taking them back to the hotel. He sits as far away from Chester as he can, striking up a conversation with Dave about how he is thinking about finally asking Mark Fiore out on a date. Mike tells him to go for it, what does he have to lose? And in the background Chester smirks.

When they get to the hotel they all go their respective rooms, mumbling good night to each other. Mike waits until he hears each door close before he dives across the hall. He doesn’t even knock on the door, it’s already ajar. Chester is standing in front of his bed wearing nothing but a smirk and his jeans. Where his shirt has gone Mike doesn’t know, or care, and he prowls over pulling off his own. They practically tackle each other, kissing roughly and it’s all teeth, tongues and breathy moans and Chester goes, “finally.”

Mike pushes him toward the bed until the backs of his legs hit it and he falls onto the mattress. “If you’ve wanted this for so long why didn’t you make a move?” He asks as Chester kisses his bare stomach, running his tongue across his hip bones.

“Why didn’t you? I thought you were straight. All that shit you said about your ex-wife…” He unfastens Mike’s jeans and pulls them down, kissing him through his boxers.

Mike moans quietly and digs his hands through Chester’s hair. “Dude, she left me because I was sleeping with Stryker.”

As he pushes Mike away Chester raises one eyebrow, pulling off his own pants. “Stryker?” He asks, bemused. “Stryker as in…Stryker? Why did I not know this?”

“I have no idea,” Mike smirks as he steps out of his jeans and pulls Chester to his feet. “I know you gave Brad a rim job, though.”

Chester gets to his knees and takes Mike in his mouth, sucking hard and giving him a thumbs up. His hands dig into Mike’s ass as he presses his tongue to the vein on the underside. Sitting back on his heels he flicks his tongue over the head, gripping the base and saying “Yeah. Brad is the worst ever lay.”

“What’d you do?” Mike asks huskily, looking down.

“He fucked me. Nothing special.”

“I hope you’re not saying that tomorrow.”

Chester gets to his feet and lies down on the bed, beckoning Mike to join him. “I doubt it,” he says.

Mike kisses him again, reaching between them to claw at Chester’s stomach. The singer arches his back, moaning lowly. His voice sends a shiver down Mike’s spine and he presses his hips down, rolling them against Chester’s until the singer clings to him, gasping.

Planting his hands on either of Mike’s shoulders Chester pushes him away and rolls out from underneath him, wandering over to his bag dumped in the corner of the room. He crouches down and digs around for a while before producing a tube of scented lube and a single condom with a dirty smile.

Mike raises an eyebrow, “Didn’t think you’d be quite so prepared.”

“Dude,” Chester laughs as he saunters back over to the bed, handing the tube and the condom to Mike, “I’m always expecting to get lucky.”

Mike pushes him down onto his stomach then pulls him up until he is on all fours. He glances back, pushing his glasses up his nose with one hand and studying the emcee carefully. Mike empties some lube onto his hand and coats his fingers, says, “You ready?”

Chester nods and winces as Mike pushes two fingers in at once. “Jesus,” he utters, but doesn’t make any move to stop him.

Fucking him with two fingers slowly Mike doesn’t see how this could possibly last very long, especially not when he crooks his fingers and hits something that makes Chester buck his hips backwards and curse under his breath, his eyes fluttering closed. Mike adds another finger and thinks about how this isn’t how he’d always imagined it would be - it’s even hotter.

Chester’s moans get louder and faster and eventually he managers to stammer, “s-stop, Mike, p-please…”

He kneels down and turns to face Mike, opening the condom wrapper dexterously as they kiss. He pulls away long enough to roll the condom onto Mike’s erection, jerking him off slowly at the same time. They watch each other carefully, neither of them daring look away until Mike drops a hand over Chester’s and smiles.

“Where do you want me?” Chester asks. His voice is thick with lust and he sucks on his bottom lip. It’s all so overwhelming Mike isn’t even sure what he wants anymore.

Instinctively Chester gets back on all fours and waits, patiently. Mike shifts closer and doesn’t hesitate, pushes in hard, fast. Chester screws his eyes closed and opens his mouth but no sound comes out, just a silent exhale until Mike stops moving.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

“You okay?” Mike asks.

Chester laughs, looks back and smiles, “Yeah, fine.”

“Good, ‘cause it’s all I can do not to just fuck your brains out here.”

Still smiling Chester says, “Go for it.”

So Mike does. He pulls out, his stubby nails breaking the skin of Chester’s lithe hips as he slams back in and builds up a steady rhythm that has them both moaning. Everywhere they touch blazes a trail of fire across their bodies and Mike runs a hand across Chester’s tattoos shining with a fine glaze of sweat.

Chester pulls away from him and Mike makes a disappointed noise until the singer says, “Lie down.”

Obediently, Mike gets on his back and gazes up in anticipation. Chester straddles him, looking down through his eyelashes as he reaches behind him, holding Mike steady as he lowers down slowly. Mike meets him half way, thrusting up until he can’t anymore.

Chester rocks his hips, riding him slowly as he braces himself on Mike’s shoulder. He ducks his head for a messy kiss, pulling away and resting their foreheads together. Their breathing heavy they stare into each other’s eyes until Mike reaches between them and wraps his hand around Chester, trying to match the singers thrusts. It’s hard to keep things in time, it’s hard to do anything.

“Don’t you dare come before me,” Chester hisses through his teeth as Mike drops his head back and moans.

“You feel so fucking good,” he murmurs, one hand going up to pull Chester’s hair, tugging his head back. He runs his tongue over the exposed skin and tastes sweat, cologne. He bites down making the singer yelp.

“Ah, fuck. Mike…” Chester grabs Mike’s hand from his hair and pins it above his head on the pillow, the other runs across the emcee’s chest, strokes his face.

They come together, Chester losing it as Mike thrusts up hard and jerks him off at the same time. The cling to each other desperately and ride out their orgasms until there’s nothing left but their own laboured breathing. Burying his face in the crook of Mike’s neck Chester mutters, “wow.”

“Yeah,” Mike laughs, “wow.”

Squinting through the darkness to the clock display on the TV across the room Chester asks, “Do you wanna take a shower?”

Mike smiles, nods. “Sure.”

Chester climbs off him slowly and pads across to the bathroom, opening the door and flicking on the light. His body illuminated Mike can see the claw marks on his back, the bright red bruise blooming on his neck. “Hey,” he says he gets to his feet. “How many more condoms did you bring with you?”

The sound of the shower almost drowns out the answer. “Enough,” he says. “And besides, we can always buy more.”

“Oh we can? How do you know I wasn’t just asking out of politeness?” Mike aims for, and misses, the trash can under the desk with the condom and joins Chester in the bathroom.

The singer grabs him and kisses him roughly. “Because,” he says, stepping into the shower cubicle, “we both know this wasn’t just a one time thing.”

“Oh we do?” Mike asks, taunting him.

Chester grins and nods, slamming Mike face first into the wall and pressing hard against him from behind and whatever he says is lost in the hiss of the steam and the emcee’s moan but it sounds something like “Yeah,” and maybe, “I love you.”


End file.
